


The One Where Karkat Learns Sign Language

by bandersnatchbandwidth



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Deaf Character, M/M, Sign Language, This is just fluff really, also a hoh character but there were no tag results for that, pesterlogs, platonically and unromantically teaching asl to your very good buddy, rated T for language only you know how it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandersnatchbandwidth/pseuds/bandersnatchbandwidth
Summary: In which Dave can't hear anything, Karkat can't hear most things, and they're both caught off guard by small signs of affection.





	1. Karkat: Learn About Mimes

**Author's Note:**

> here we go lads I've never posted a fanfic before

The meteor is dark and cold and boring- not to mention there are at least a dozen humans running amok all the time. Okay, well, maybe there are only two of them but with the way they talk and leave all their belongings everywhere, there might as well be a dozen of them. Everyone has been stuck on this meteor for a while now but you generally spend your time locked in the room you picked as your respiteblock, only leaving for very important reasons. Important reasons such as the fact that the other occupants of the meteor seem to be having some sort of incredibly loud party. Again. You groan, trying to cover your ears, despite the fact that you can’t hear much anyway. Maybe it’s the vibration of the walls and floor that are bothering you so much, and not the actual noise level. Well, no matter. It’s time to break up the party so you can actually sleep for once.

You stand up with a soft hiss of annoyance and shove the door open, following the sound down a few hallways until reaching the designated common area, where the unsanctioned shenanigans are occurring.  


You glance around the room- only Rose, Terezi, and Dave tonight- and summon up your best yelling voice. “HEY!”  


Rose looks over at you and grins. “Finally decided to join all the cool kids, did you?” You scowl, but that only causes her grin to stretch. “Oh, come now, I’m sure it’s not that awful to talk to us every now and again.”  


You sigh and stomp over to Terezi’s corner of the room, flopping on the floor next to her. “How can you tolerate these assholes?” you groan, bonking your head against the wall. Even with your natural tone of voice- that is, yelling- you aren’t sure if she can hear you. You can barely hear you and you know her answer, anyway. She likes the humans. Gross. You take a moment to try to focus on the music, to hear if there are any lyrics, or anything of note. You can feel the beat (because of those stupid huge speakers that Rose and Dave figured out how to alchemize a while ago), but beyond that, you can’t tell. You let out a growl. God damn hearing loss. And then there’s a sudden pain in you arm.  


“Ow, fuck!” You glare at Terezi, who apparently decided to get your attention by stabbing the snout of her cane into your arm. She cackles at your outburst. “Hello, meteor to Karkat, I’ve been trying to talk to you.”  


You growl again, but this time in mild annoyance rather than actual anger. “Sorry, sorry, I just-” She stabs you with the snout of her cane again and you hiss in pain. “Ow!" You try to add extra loud annoyance to your voice. "What the fuck, Terezi?”  


She says something in response but wow it’s loud in here and you realize you have no idea what she said. “I have no idea what you said.”  


She just laughs, sharp and loud and one of the only things you can hear right now. She elbows you lightly, but even that kind of hurts. She says something else, but her voice is aimed out into the room, towards where Dave and Rose are trading a pen and paper back and forth. Rose looks over at Terezi and answers her, but you can’t even hope to know what she said. You really are garbage at lip reading. The way humans pronounce things is weird anyways, without fangs or mandibles or anything; how are you supposed to know what they say at all, really? Suddenly something flies past your head and you jump- much to Terezi’s delight. She cackles and elbows you again and you elbow her back, to no avail. Dang she’s tough. Or you’re really not very strong. Who’s to say?  


She clicks a pen and starts writing on a pad of paper. Oh, that’s what flew past your head. You glance over at Rose and Dave, who aren’t talking anymore, although every now and then Dave makes some gestures and Rose sort of copies them. That’s weird. But then again, humans are weird and annoying and oh hey, Terezi’s trying to get your attention.  


“Thanks for not stabbing me this time,” you grunt.  


She waggles her eyebrows to insinuate that she would really like to stab you again. You take the paper she’s offering before she has the chance. Hopefully. The paper reads, “YOU KNOW 1T’S K1ND4 FUN TO H4NG OUT W1TH TH3 HUM4NS, NOT TO MENT1ON TH4T YOU’R3 TH3 ONLY ON3 WHO DO3SN’T COM3 DOWN TO P4RTY.”  


You sigh. “I don’t want to have to deal with them!” you yell. Fuck, this music is still so loud you can barely think. You don’t care if Rose and Dave hear you or not at this point and decide you’d rather just yell about it. So you stand up and do just that. “Please, for the love of anything that’s good left in this sorry excuse for a universe, just turn down your fucking music!”  


Terezi sighs dramatically, and says something you can’t hear to Rose. Rose, who finally turns down the music. You can barely feel the vibrations anymore and sure as hell can’t hear it. “Fucking finally,” you shout. Then you notice Dave, who looks absolutely baffled.  


“What happened to the music?” he asks, his voice far quieter than you expected.  


You crunch your face up in that weird expression you do when you’re confused because not only are you confused, but it’s also hard to hear Dave with him practically whispering over there. “It’s still playing, I don’t know what you’re on,” you answer, now that you can actually tell what people are saying. Mostly.  


“I- Wait, is it really?” He looks at Rose, who nods.  


It’s pretty clear what’s going on but you continue to be confused anyway. “Are you trying to make fun of me for not liking your shitty loud music? Well EXCUSE me for being a pathetic little wriggler who can’t enjoy the worst music known to anyone ever that’s being played SO FUCKING LOUD that I can’t even hear myself think let alone talk to anyone on this stupid, horrible, boring as fuck rock!” Honestly you were just getting the rant rolling, but you stop when Dave snorts and starts laughing. “What the fuck do you want, Strider?” you growl. He keeps giggling like an idiot, which is only adding to your confused and angry state. You open your mouth to yell some more, but he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.  


“Dude your rants are way funnier in person, oh my god.” He stops laughing and just holds a stupid grin on his face. Rose has a very similar grin, although hers looks more like she’s waiting for you to realize something but fuck if you know what she wants. Terezi also seems entertained and, shit, what are you missing?  


“Why exactly is this so funny?” you nearly screech, getting more frustrated by the second. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if you spontaneously combust. That might be kind of nice, actually.  


Dave is still smiling like a moron and says, “I have literally no idea what you’re saying but you’re so mad it’s hilarious.”  


Come on, you should have figured it out by now. But no, you still think he somehow knows you can barely hear and is making fun of you. You think that, that is, until he and Rose make some quick gestures at each other and after a brief pause he follows up.  


“Dude. Karkat. I’m not making fun of you or whatever, my hearing is just fucked.”  


Oh. Well, shit.  


“Oh. Well, shit. I didn’t know.” You suddenly feel kind of bad, but you’re also still mad because they should have told you.  


“Of course you didn’t know, you never come hang out with us, asshole!” Terezi hollers from her corner of the room, where she’s been pitilessly watching this ridiculous misunderstanding take place for the past several minutes. You glare at her. She just sits there, looking decidedly pleased with herself.  


“Whatever, I don’t care, just stop playing the music so loud.” And with that, you stomp through the halls back to your respiteblock. Well, that could have gone better.

\------------------------------------

It’s been a week or so since the whole Ordeal happened, and you’re finally feeling less angry that no one told you. Partially because Terezi recently took to yelling through your door for you to come hang out and it gets a lot harder to ignore everyone when the second loudest person on the meteor is yelling at you- even if you don’t hear exactly what she says most of the time. You’re not sure if you want to know, honestly.  


There isn’t exactly a “day” or “night” on the meteor, though through some magic bullshit it does have roughly day-long cycles of “brighter and warmer” and “darker and colder” that are close enough that you all don’t go crazy. You didn’t sleep last night and opted to move to the common room because let’s be real, your respiteblock isn’t very interesting and you were about to have a breakdown.  
You figure it’s close enough to morning that you can make coffee without feeling like an irresponsible piece of shit, so you do that. It’s not good. You sigh and trudge over to the couch where you had set up camp, plop down, and resume flicking through Troll Netflix to attempt to locate a movie you haven’t watched yet.  


Someone leans on the back of the couch next to you and you gracefully spring at least three feet in the air and then hit the ground very hard and much less gracefully. Thankfully, your coffee cup was already on the floor. Unthankfully, you did knock it over.  


“What the fuck! Why would you sneak up on me like that!” You scramble to pick up the cup while beginning your rant, and then a rag drops onto the ground in front of you. You hear someone laughing. Of course it’s him. You glare up at Dave, who’s grinning at you from behind those stupid shades.  


“I’m sorry bro I tried to make a lot of noise but you were all caught up in your movies I guess!”  


You throw the coffee-soaked rag at him. He expertly dodges your definitely extremely accurate toss, then picks the rag up and flings it into the sink. He turns to you and shrugs. You take out your phone and type the most eloquent insult you can think of, stomp over, and shove the phone in his face.  


He snorts. “Fuck you too, dude.”  


Okay, maybe it wasn’t that eloquent.  


“You’re taking all the fun out of insulting you,” you grumble.  


“Uh-” he starts saying something and then cuts himself off. You growl loudly (who’s going to hear you?) and start typing.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]

CG: LISTEN. YOU’RE TAKING ALL OF THE FUN OUT OF INSULTING YOU IN PERSON.   
CG: I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO RIPPING ON YOU BUT AS IT TURNS OUT ALL MY BEST MATERIAL IS BEING WASTED ON SOME USELESS BASTARD WHO CAN’T EVEN HEAR IT. 

Dave reads for a few seconds before responding.

TG: ok first of all telling me to listen is so insensitive you live with terezi you know how touchy we disabled folk are  
TG: and second man its not my fault i cant hear do you think i wouldve picked this  
TG: its fucking frustrating as shit and its not like you know what its like but if youre gonna insult me im gonna need you to use your phone or just learn how to sign like a normal person

You squint menacingly at your phone and then up at him. Then back at your phone, resuming typing in a way that could possibly be perceived as “overdramatic”.

CG: I CAN’T *BELIEVE* YOU’RE PULLING THE “YOU CAN’T MENTION ANYTHING THAT COULD POSSIBLY BE CONSTRUED AS TALKING ABOUT MY DISABILITY” SHIT, I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THAT FROM TEREZI WITHOUT YOU CHIMING IN ABOUT IT.  
CG: AND WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, “SIGN”? 

You hear him laugh after he reads your messages - one sharp “heh” that does more to amp up your frustration at him than anything he typed. When you snap to look at him, the poker face is perfectly in line once again as he answers you.

TG: you know man, sign language  
TG: talking with your hands like some kind of italian mime just trying to get by, got his hat on the ground waiting for someone to drop in some pennies or whatever the fuck the currency in italy is  
TG: i think its the euro but earth got fucking shot down in a blaze of glory so i guess it doesnt matter anymore  
TG: the mimes family is starving and all he can do is mime words and shit so the business hasnt really taken off yet but hes sure something will come of it as long as he keeps trying to do something or meet another italian mime who can talk to him because i dont know if yall actually have anything like a mime back on murder planet  
TG: but theyre these clown-adjacent dudes who never talk and just like pretend things are happening to them and its pretty impressive i think  
TG: way fucking better than actual clowns you know whats the deal with those anyway

CG: DAVE *PLEASE*   
CG: I AM LITERALLY BEGGING YOU TO STOP TALKING ABOUT YOUR EARTH ITALIAN MIMES. I COULD NOT POSSIBLY CARE LESS.   
CG: EVERY SINGLE PATHETIC MOLECULE OF MY BEING IS SHRIVELLING UP AND DYING PAINFULLY AS YOU CONTINUE TO TORTURE ME INTO A SLOW AND AGONIZINGLY UNINTERESTING EARLY GRAVE. 

Dave laughs once again, turning to look at you. “Sorry you hate Italian mimes so much dude, I’ll only talk about the French ones from now on.”  


You grimace and see a small smile play at his lips. Not that you’re paying attention to that, of course. Anyway, back to the subject at hand, you roll your eyes at him and type again.

CG: JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU MEANT BY “SIGN”. 

You see his eyebrow twitch up slightly so you cut him off as fast as possible.

CG: *WITHOUT* TELLING ME ABOUT MIMES. 

He shrugs one shoulder, the smile getting a little more noticeable. Still looking at you, he makes a series of quick and pointed movements with his hands, slightly mouthing words and adjusting his facial expression as the movements changed. When he’s done doing whatever-the-fuck that was, he stands still and looks at you, seeming very pleased with himself. You narrow your eyes at him.  


“Sign language,” he says, speaking slower than usual and moving his hands in time with the words, “is a language made by people who can’t hear. So we can still talk. I mean, I can talk, but signing is easier. And other people who know it can talk to us.”  


Huh. You’re not going to lie, you kind of wish Alternia had something like that. You were listening, but the movements of his hands distracted you - those were all words? There was a way to talk to people when you can't hear?  


“So-” you start talking and then cut yourself off with a short growl.

CG: SO   
CG: THE HAND MOVEMENTS ARE WORDS? JUST LIKE THAT? HOW THE FUCK DOES ANYONE KNOW THAT. 

He tilts his head slightly to the side, thinking.

TG: i dont know really i guess it developed like any other language  
TG: like one day someone was  
TG: get this  
TG: *miming*  


(You roll your eyes hard enough it hurts)

TG: some words and then someone else was like oh that makes sense how about this movement for that and the first person was like oh hell yeah or they probably didnt say it out loud because of being deaf and not talking and all  
TG: not that deaf people cant talk i mean i can but i wasnt born (made?) deaf so that has a lot to do with it but they got the idea across without talking is what im getting at  
TG: probably gave the other dude a sick fist bump or something  
TG: made up some more signs and called it a day  


For the first time in a very long time, you’re not sure what to say. You were definitely not expecting to learn something about Earth culture today, let alone the fact that there was an entire language created for people who can’t hear.  


“-if you want?”  


Ah shit, Dave was talking.  


“What?” You respond automatically, before starting to type again. He waves his hand in the space above your phone.  


“Y' don’t have to type. I said I can teach you some signs, if you want.” He suddenly looks kind of nervous, and surely the fact that you immediately narrow your eyes at him doesn’t help.  


“Why?”  


“Um. Okay I’m pretty sure you said ‘why’, but tell me if I’m wrong, but I know you like talking and thought signing might be kind of fun? For you.” His voice gets even quieter than normal as his sentence trails off and you have to strain to hear it. You’re surprised. You also think he's right and it could be fun.  


That was nice of him and you're not sure what to make of that. So of course you ruin it.  


“No I don’t want you to teach me a whole new language, what the fuck? It’s hard enough knowing one! And I especially don't need _you _to teach me anything.”  
__

____

____

You know he couldn’t hear that, but from the quick look of hurt that crosses his face, you figure he got the gist of it and you hurry back over to the couch to gather your things and retreat to your respiteblock. You suck.


	2. ==> Be the other guy

You are now the other guy.

You just watched Karkat storm out of the room after offering to teach him some signs, and you’re not feeling too good. You had been starting to think he may possibly be beginning to perhaps not hate your guts, but those tiny hopeful feelings got sufficiently squashed just now. You might as well make some coffee. That’ll fix it.

You gently plonk a coffee mug under the machine and tap the buttons you need to get it going. You decided on full caffeine, even though you know it usually makes you feel simultaneously like you’re about to die of heart failure and like you’re moving so incredibly fast everyone else is going slow. It’s a bit like the part of Into the Spider-Verse where Miles’ spidey powers give him Super Anxiety. Except you don’t make that comparison, because that movie doesn’t exist for you. Instead, you lean on the counter and rummage around in the boxes that serve as cupboards to attempt to locate the caramel and creamer that you bugged Rose about alchemizing for the first two weeks you were here. 

You feel a vibration run through the counter – something Rose so kindly added to the coffee maker so you would know when it’s done without having to stare at it for an indeterminate amount of time (three minutes). You remove your mug and dump a frankly horrific amount of cream and caramel into it. It’s basically a warm milkshake. Perfect, you think, allowing yourself a little wiggle of happiness. No one was around to judge.

You plop yourself down in the chair that faces out at the room so no one sneaks up on you and your wonderful cup of hot fake sugar and caffeine. You sit there for a minute or so before you notice Rose sauntering through the room. She gives you a nod of greeting and signs, “I’m making coffee, then we talk.” Great. Somehow even with your shades and perfect, unbreakable poker face, Rose Lalonde can read you like a book. You don’t always mind, but sometimes it gets weird. You wait as her coffee brews, sipping your drink and trying to focus on the feeling of it. Being around all these hearing people is starting to make you miss hearing more than you had since you were little. You know it won’t help, but you find yourself straining to hear the coffee machine, or the rhythm Rose is tapping with her feet, or anything else. You look down into your coffee, letting out a heavy breath.

Rose pulls out a chair next to you, placing her mug carefully on the table. You don’t look up at her, but she taps the table where you’re looking and you know better than to ignore her – especially if you don’t want her to shift into full psychoanalyst mode.

“What’s wrong?” She signs, mouthing the words out of habit. “I haven’t seen you so sad in a long time.”

You roll your eyes a little and take a sip of coffee before signing. “I can’t hear-“ 

You make a face at her when she signs “really?!” with a look of fake shock.

“I can’t hear,” you start again, “but all of you can. I haven’t lived with anyone I couldn’t talk to in a long time.”

Rose’s hands rest in her lap and she looks at you for a bit, her eyebrows coming together just slightly. It’s like she thinks she can figure you out completely if she just scrutinizes your face a little more. She says something, one movement of her mouth, then signs again. “I didn’t think about that.” She pauses, trying to think of the signs she knows to encompass what she wants to say. “You know,” she signs haltingly, almost like she can’t decide if she actually wants to say it. “You’re not alone.”

You scrunch up your eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

Her hands come up to tap on the side of her mug as she tries to figure out how to say it. You sometimes wish you could help, you could teach her more signs, but you know she’s certain she knows enough to communicate and doesn’t much care for more lessons. There aren’t enough synonyms and adjectives in sign language for her taste. 

She takes a slow drink of her cooling coffee (without a drop of cream or sugar, how abhorrent) and signs again, her eyes darting around as she mentally looks for the words. “You’re not alone – Not alone as a hard of hearing person.”

You snort when she signs “hard of hearing”. “Rose my hearing is as hard as possible. But, no one else is.” Your eyes snap up to meet hers in a moment of realization. “Wait, wait. Karkat…?”

“Not deaf, no,” she shakes her head with the sign, “but hard of hearing. Terezi told me for some reason. I think he hates it and doesn’t want anyone to know.”

You frown. You feel sort of out of the loop for not knowing earlier. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Rose pauses again as she searches for words. “I… I don’t know. I think I felt he wouldn’t want anyone to know, but I was told, and I didn’t want to break that.”

You nod, slowly, trying to understand. “Why didn’t Terezi tell me?”

Rose shrugs helplessly. “How can anyone know why Terezi does anything?”

“True.”

A lull falls over the two of you and you finish your drinks in silence – but a comfortable one. As much as Rose loves to talk, you always appreciate just being able to sit with her. You know she appreciates it too. Signing takes a lot out of her, having to translate all her thoughts just to talk to you. That’s why she always preferred messaging you and you know it, but the fact that she’s recently been trying to sign more means the world to you, even if you won’t tell her. Can’t have you getting sappy, it would break the coolguy façade you’ve got going on. You’re pretty sure she knows, anyway.

\-------------------------------------------

It’s been a week since your little early morning feelings jam with Rose and you’ve been thinking about how to break it to Karkat that you know he’s hard of hearing. Well, you’ve been thinking about it occasionally. You’re not the best at thinking about one specific thing for any amount of time at once. This morning, for example, you’ve completely forgotten. It’s currently the very end of the nighttime cycle and you’ve been awake for a few hours. Thirteen years of light sleeping and living off under 7 hours per night can’t be fixed in a few weeks. You give up trying to sleep and toss a blanket around your shoulders and grab a pillow and your guitar. The turntables are fun and all and you gotta dig the symbolism, but you can’t feel the music like you can with the guitar and it’s been a while since you’ve properly played.

Moving as quietly as possible, which is to say floating an inch above the ground and trying very hard not to knock your guitar into the wall, you make your way downstairs from the main section of the meteor to the living room. It’s smaller than the common room, with only one couch and a large chair, so you’ve often found yourself coming down here to practice. Especially at night, when you don’t want to disturb anyone. Rose told you once the door is closed it’s essentially soundproof and you still have some doubts about the validity of that statement, but at the very least no one’s complained yet so it must be quieter. You toss the pillow against the armrest of the couch and gather your blanket cape around you as you sit down.

You push your shades up onto your head. It’s dim down here and besides, the door is closed and it’s too early yet for anyone to be awake. You curl your hand around the neck of the guitar and feel the firm steel strings against your fingers. It’s a familiar feeling, almost comforting. A little reminder of how everything used to be. You find yourself trying to remember what the guitar sounds like and a knot of anger and sadness ties itself in your chest when you can’t. You press your fingers hard into the strings, until they hurt. You close your eyes, let out a breath, and rearrange your fingers in a simple chord shape. You open your eyes again and strum once, focusing on the sensation beneath your hands and against your body. With the comfortable feeling resonating within you, you begin to play.

You sway with the music, your fingers moving over the strings in patterns you memorized years ago. You let a few particularly loud strums reverberate longer than necessary, enjoying the feeling of the music. You add extra notes and flourishes to the music like guitar Christina Aguilera, allowing the fun of playing to take you over. A small smile begins to spread across your face as your hands dance around the guitar, blending classical and pop songs as your whims change. Your eyes close and the only sensation you have left is the vibration of the music running through you. You slow the song, focusing on the sharpness of the strings against one hand and the vibration against the other, the way the sound resonates within the guitar and out into your body, the way muscle memory moves your hands into the proper shapes with barely any thought at all. You realize you almost feel comfortable here, playing music you can’t hear to no one at all. 

And suddenly, there is someone there. You got lost in the music sauce and didn’t see the door open. You quickly stop playing, pressing your hands against the strings, and flick your shades back on. “Sorry-“ you start saying, turning to the door. It’s Karkat, standing in the doorway, bouncing slightly back and forth like he can’t decide if he wants to come in or leave, like some kind of particularly disgruntled, slightly bug-like cat. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you up if I did. Rose said this was quiet.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together and finally makes the decision to enter the room, closing the door gently behind him. He walks over to the couch and stops just behind it. He opens his mouth to talk then quickly shuts it and bares his teeth briefly before typing on his phone for a bit and shoving it in your face. You have to recoil an inch just to avoid having it smash into your nose. He just typed a note. “THIS ROOM IS QUIET AND EMPTY. THAT’S WHY I USUALLY COME DOWN HERE. I DIDN’T EXPECT YOU.” You don’t get very long to read because he already has it back in his hands, typing again.

“I come down for the same reasons,” you say, but you’re not sure he heard because you have a new note in your face. “YOUR MUSIC ISN’T ATROCIOUS.”

You lift an eyebrow to look at him. “High praise from Karkat fucking Vantas.”

He sneers at you. 

“I wish I could hear it though,” you say, partially to yourself. Now, you’re not good at lip reading and God knows you can’t read a goddamn thing a troll says, what with all the fangs and shit, but you’re almost certain Karkat just said “me too”. You carefully plop your guitar on the chair and maneuver yourself around on the couch so you can look at him. He’s taller than you like this, you note absently.

“Did you say ‘me too’?”

His eyes widen a bit before he settles into another angry expression, but you caught it.

“Holy shit dude are you deaf?” As you say that, you remember your conversation with Rose.

He bares his teeth in what you can only assume is a growl as his eyes dart around the room. He types and once more shoves the phone in your face. “I JUST CAN’T HEAR THINGS WELL UNLESS THEY’RE LOUD AS SHIT. YOU ARE THE FUCKING *WORST* TO UNDERSTAND.”

You smirk a bit and open your phone so you can properly message, since you’re the most goddamn considerate person on this meteor. And since you know exactly how much it sucks to not understand people.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TG: so thats why you yell all the time huh  


CG: NO STRIDER I’M JUST A BITCH.  


You snicker. And then you’re struck with an idea.

TG: we can try to alchemize you a hearing aid  


He reads and makes a face that can only be interpreted as both angry and confused, but you don’t think he’s actually angry.

CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS A HEARING AID.  


TG: it aids your hearing come on dude use your critical thinking skills  


CG: FUCK OFF.  


TG: im serious though  


TG: i used them before my hearing was totally gone  


TG: they wont magically fix your hearing they aint miracles but theyll help  


Karkat frowns at you, but the expression is softer than it was. Maybe he’s… kind of happy? Or surprised? You’ve never been very good at reading people, perhaps from living with one immaculately poker-faced Bro and occasional video chats with all of three people.

CG: I GUESS YOU CAN TRY. WHO CARES.  


You smile – almost a full, genuine smile. You remember what it was like to first get hearing aids, to be able to experience so much again. You really want to give Karkat that experience. You want to make him happy, you realize. And having hearing aids had made you happy, so you’re certain it would work on him. Well, not entirely certain. He can be angry at anything, you’ve discovered over the past weeks. But irregardlessly, you think it should work.

TG: sign language tutoring is still on the table too  


CG: NO.  


Fine then. “You have no idea what I’m saying and I think that’s funny; I’m really excited and not telling you,” you sign, your smile turning mischievous as he narrows his eyes when you point to him to sign “you”.

TG: youll never know what i said   


CG: MAYBE I DON’T WANT TO KNOW.  


You snort.

TG: you so want to know  


TG: bless your fucking heart youre *dying* to know  


TG: you dont know anything youve wanted to know you know more than this thing you know you know you want to know  


CG: STOP SAYING “KNOW” YOU’RE GIVING ME A CONNIPTION.  


You snort and offer a shrug with one shoulder.

TG: so?  


He looks at you through narrowed eyes, chewing on his lip. You have a realization on how you can convince him.

TG: ill teach you cusses first  


He reads, then glares at you. You swear you see a little smile flash over his face like the way old people smile for .2 seconds before dropping it. He points a claw at you accusingly and opens his mouth to talk before snapping it shut and typing.

CG: FINE. YOU CAN TEACH ME YOUR STUPID EARTH HAND LANGUAGE.  


You laugh triumphantly. “Hell yeah.”

\-------------------------------------------

It’s late afternoon and you’re laying face down on the floor of the alchemiter room. There are several failed pairs of hearing aids in the garbage bin and a half-emptied two liter bottle of Mountain Dew Code Red (and one fully emptied one) on the floor next to you. You’ve been up here since this morning, trying to figure out how in the everloving fuck you can alchemize up some hearing aids. As it turns out, it’s pretty fucking hard to make small electronic devices out of essentially nothing. Your most recent attempt had the right shape and size but according to Rose, couldn’t turn on. So here you are, doing the only thing you can: laying on the floor.

You feel someone stomp an erratic rhythm on the floor, so you pop your shades back on and sit up. Terezi bounces across the room and basically body slams herself into the couch.

“What’s up?”

She grins, sitting up and staring at you. How she can always tell where anyone is is beyond you. “Rose told me some signs,” she signs slowly, spelling almost half the words out in full.

“Holy shit,” you laugh. 

“Now I’m cooler than you,” she signs in the same halting way.

“Um, absolutely not.” You start to come up with all the reasons you’re cooler, but Terezi gets out her phone and types, so you shelve those thoughts for now.

gallowsCalibrator [GC] began pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]

GC: 1 DONT KNOW TH4T M4NY S1GNS Y3T BUT R3ST 4SSUR3D 1LL L34RN TH3M 4LL 4ND B3 COOL3R TH4N YOU ONC3 4ND FOR 4LL >:]  


TG: sure you keep telling yourself that  


GC: 4NYW4Y TH3 R34SON 1 C4M3 UP H3R3 1S B3C4US3 ROS3 TOLD M3 YOUR3 TRY1NG TO M4K3 SOM3TH1NG TO H3LP K4RK4T  


You’re caught off guard.

TG: yeah? whats it to you  


She grins again. It never gets less scary. You’re never sure what exactly she’s grinning about, but due to the Nature Of Terezi you’re always sure it’s based in shenanigans.

GC: OH YOU KNOW, JUST TH4 1TS CUT3 OF YOU  


You make a face.

TG: come on tz whats cute about trying to alchemize some tiny shitty hearing devices for your tiny shitty bro who has the same hearing problems as you and it would just be way easier to let it go and not try to make them anymore  


No, wait, typing it out made it seem different than when you were just thinking about it.

TG: wait i think i see your point  


The grin is now accompanied by one eyebrow being flicked up. She shrugs dramatically.

GC: 1 KN3W YOU WOULD  


She gets up, grabs your Mountain Dew Code Red, and heads out of the room.

“Is that really all you were gonna say?” You call towards her. She whips around and after a moment’s consideration, nods noncommittally and walks out. 

Well, that was weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was expecting this entire fic to be like 4k at most but here we are lads


	3. ==> Be the first guy again

You are now the first guy you were.

It’s the middle of the night and you’re sitting on a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor of your respiteblock, pitch black save for the movie playing on your husktop, trying to sign. You started a few months ago now and haven’t learned nearly as quickly as you had assumed – as it turns out, having no concept of anything but spoken or written language means it’s been difficult for you to process signing. Not to mention the fact that neither you nor Dave have necessarily impressive attention spans. Or the fact that you’re a perfectionist and desperately need to feel as though you completely understand a sign every time you learn it. So far your vocabulary is… meager, at best. After you started signing with Dave, he rescinded his decision to teach you swear words first and you absolutely totally didn’t lose your cool whatsoever. But after that, shall we say, exchanging of words, you found that Dave was really excited about signing. He had actually smiled. More than once. It was much easier to get into than you had thought, even with perfectionist tendencies. As it turned out, Dave, for all his lack of attention and focus, was a good teacher. He had laid out some general lesson ideas, explaining that he had taught himself to sign with videos online and a few library books but really the best way to learn was through conversation. And so you began.

You shake the memory out of your head and concentrate on the movements of your hand, slowly forming letters. _A… B… C… D…_ You struggle with E, trying to keep your claws from stabbing into your thumb. _F_ is similarly hard. Dumb humans and their blunt fingers. What the fuck is that about anyway? How can the top organism on a planet not even have any claws? You continue musing about the evolutionarily terrible form that humans acquired as you sign the rest of the letters. You get stopped on _Q_ , trying to remember what it was. Some weird upside-downways thing? You growl and make a note in your phone: “FIND OUT WHAT THE FUCK Q IS.”

As much as forgetting a letter bothers you, you manage to finish the alphabet with no more problems and run through it again. Finally. You shuffle a few of your papers around to find the to-do list and cross a line through the box next to “FULL ALPHABET”. Dave hasn’t given you homework, but you find everything is much easier with a to-do list, so you created one for yourself. You’ve already gotten through introduction words, your name, a few miscellaneous words, and the alphabet, so last up is numbers. 

You developed a way to count that let you practice as well as chill out, and counting has become the thing you enjoy signing the most. You flop onto your back, adjust a few pillows, and start counting as you breathe. Five numbers for the inhale, five for the exhale. Every time you trip over a number you start again at the beginning of that set of fives. As you get into signing higher numbers, the signs take longer and you have to deepen your breaths to fit. Tonight you barely get to sixty-five before feeling tired and slow. You let yourself calm down as you keep counting. _Seventy-six, seventy-seven…_ It’s a weird feeling, being calm. Not that you’re entirely incapable of it – see the current circumstances – but back on Alternia you could never be calm. Here, however, with only a few living beings at all and even less evidence of Alternia, you can be calm. Your lack of hearing won’t get you killed (probably). _Sleeping_ won’t get you killed. _Eighty-nine, ninety…_ You’ve slowed your breaths almost as much as you can. _Ninety-four, ninety-five…_ You’re tired from signing, your breathing is deep, the pillows and blankets are soft and warm, and for the first time in a very long time – _ninety-eight, ninety-nine_ – you allow yourself to sleep. _One hundred._

* * *

You slept through the entire daytime cycle, and by the time you rouse from your (desperately needed) beauty sleep, everyone else must already sleeping again. You’re shocked you managed to sleep more than four hours – way more than four hours. You stretch slowly and feel a few things pop in your shoulders and back. You grimace as your elbow pops in a weird way. This is what you get for sleeping on the floor. You briefly ponder what you could do now before settling on watching a movie, like you always do. You sling a blanket around your shoulders, grab a pillow, and make your way out of your block. A quick detour to the kitchen to grab some snacks and you’re set, deciding to go down to the living room instead of setting up camp in the common room as usual. 

A bit of light shines from beneath the door. You don’t hear anything from inside, but your hearing is not a very good marker of if something is happening or not. So you settle to carefully open the door and peek in. The lights are on, if a bit darker than normal, but your eyes are meant for seeing in the dark. You don’t see anyone inside at first. The TV is on, playing some old-looking movie you don't recognize. You take two steps in and survey again. Ah, there. Someone’s on the couch. The someone sits up and looks over at you, popping his shades on in a practiced motion. He motions for you to come over. You bounce slightly, unsure if you want to deal with anyone or not. 

“It’s fine, come here,” he signs before turning back to the movie. Fine. It’s fine. You close the door and pad over to the couch, sitting carefully on the opposite end. 

“How… did you know… I was here?” You sign, slowly, awkwardly.

He taps the foot that’s resting on the ground. “Felt it.”

You furrow your eyebrows. You didn’t know humans could be so perceptive to things like that. “How?” 

He smiles a little, seeming amused. “The floor rumbles when people walk.” You absently note how he puffs his cheeks out to sign "rumble." His smile turns into a smirk. “You’re not sneaky.” He spells the last word after the sign, knowing you don't know it. It's become common for him to do that for you.

You make a face at him, baring your teeth. “Yeah I am!” Your signs are still messy and nowhere as quick as his, but Dave is good at reading them. He laughs, sitting up to face you. He keeps his laughing quiet, controlled, and if not for the way his shoulders shake you would never have been able to tell.

“You are not!” He signs, leaning forward with “not” to emphasize. “You’re so loud-“

He keeps signing, but as he talks, you understand less and less of what he’s saying. You catch a few words, simple ones, but you’re lost. It’s interesting to watch, now that you have a tiny bit of a grip on signing. You can recognize where most signs start and end, even if you have no idea what they mean. The way his hands fly around in controlled gestures and his expression changes with words is almost mesmerizing. There is far more nuance to this language than you had presumed those months ago.

“Stop, stop,” you sign, making a face like you’re in pain. Pretending you couldn’t bear to watch a second more of his rambling. 

He signs a few more things, then stops. It’s dim in the room, but you swear you see him blush.

“Sorry,” he signs, “I forgot. Didn’t mean to.”

You roll your eyes. “You can talk and talk and talk and talk and talk…” You keep signing “talk” until he kicks in your direction, laughing again.

“I don’t talk a lot!”

You kick him back, wary of your claws. “Yes, you do! You never stop!”

He sticks his tongue out and signs something you don’t know.

“What?”

He snickers and puts on that stupid Strider smirk. “You don’t know. Never will.”

You growl at him, loud but not serious, and he flinches back, looking surprised. You’re surprised too. “You heard?” You sign, furrowing your eyebrows.

“No, Karkat, I’m deaf,” he signs back, “I felt it.” He pats the back of the couch you’re both leaning against. Huh. You didn’t realize that was so loud. Dave leans forward, a little smile creeping onto his face.

“You-“ he thinks for a second, fingers plucking imaginary guitar strings. “You… growl?”

You snort. “Yeah, you can’t?”

He laughs, the same quiet shoulder-shaking. “No, man, humans don’t growl!” He signs another word you don’t catch, but it probably wasn’t important. 

“Humans are boring and lame,” you sign, spelling almost every word. You flash your middle finger at him and add, “For not teaching swears.”

His laughter gets stronger and he almost doubles over. When he looks at you again, a big mischievous smile is plastered on his face and he signs a lot that you don’t understand. You flip him off again. He drums his hands on his legs, a habit you learned meant he was particularly entertained by something. You kick at his knee, still careful of the claws. He's so fragile, you don't want to accidentally hurt him. “Bitch,” you spell at him, mouth stuck in an insincere growl.

“I know,” he answers jovially. God damn it. 

Suddenly Dave bolts up, flapping his hands around wildly. “Wait wait wait!” You can almost feel the excitement radiating off him, what the fuck? “I just remembered! I learned how to alchemize a hearing aid!” He has to spell half the words so you understand (and because the two of you and Rose haven’t worked out signs for game-specific words yet) but holy shit, that’s why he’s so excited.

“Really?” You still don’t entirely know what a hearing aid will do for you, other than “aid your hearing, dude”, but if he’s reacting like this it might be better than you assumed.

He sits back, but still looks happy. “I don’t know-“ a sign you don’t know- “but I think it-“ another sign you don’t know.

You copy the unknown signs. “What do those mean?”

“Sorry! I forgot. First sign is ‘for sure’,” he answers, spelling the words. “Second sign is ‘functions’.” He signs the sentence again, a bit slower, so you can catch the new signs. “I don’t know for sure, but I think it functions.”

You nod, copying the signs a few more times. “Cool. How long did it take?”

He lets his head drop backwards, signing “explode” over it as big and dramatic as possible, throwing the entirety of both arms into the sign and kicking one leg out. When he’s done being a dramatic little shit he sits back up and signs, “It was hard. I thought I knew how to make them but I didn’t! Rose helped a lot.” He hops up to his feet with all the enthusiasm of a small barkbeast. “I’ll get them, wait here!” Without waiting for your answer, he literally flies out of the room, and you’re left alone.

The movie Dave had playing ended several minutes ago and the room is dark and quiet. You sit idly, slightly stunned at the whirlwind of energy that just happened. Why is he so eager to help you? You’ve never done anything for him. You’re learning to sign, but that’s mostly because he annoyed you into it. That’s definitely the reason, yeah. You take just about every opportunity possible to bother and insult him – and he does it back to you – and he still spent months working on something for you. To help you. Why the fuck would anyone want to help you? No one even listens to you. No one cares about you. He probably felt bad. Yeah, that must be it. 

… On the other hand, he has seemed genuinely happy to sign with you. But there’s no reason for him to pick talking to you. Rose can sign well, Kanaya and Terezi have learned a little bit, Vriska doesn’t care, but then again, when has she cared for someone who isn’t her? He should talk to them. It would be easier for him. He shouldn’t be wasting his time like this. He doesn’t care. He can’t.

You try to stomp out the warmth that grows in your chest when you think of anyone, of him, caring about you. Alternia doesn’t exist anymore; you won’t get culled for your lack of partners and your awful blood, so it’s okay that no one likes you. It won’t get you killed. It won’t get them killed. _No one likes you,_ you repeat in your head, as thoughts of your friends fill your mind, involuntary and forcibly unwelcome. You drag your claws through your hair. Why is it so hard for you to let people like you? You know how all the quadrants work, you know what’s supposed to happen in those relationships, hell, you know you _want_ something like that, but apparently an entire life full of convincing yourself you’re horrible can’t be reversed with one pleasant thought. Damn it.

You’re jarred out of your bitter musing by a shout of “CHECK IT!” that comes from the door. You turn to look as Dave comes back in, an honest to god _grin_ plastered on his face.

“You’re loud,” you sign, surprised. He usually talks so quietly you can barely catch a single word. He shrugs as he plops back down on the couch.

“I’m happy,” he answers, smile fading, looking off to the side like he’s embarrassed. “I want these to help.”

Fuck it, you have no self-restraint. You’re having this conversation now. “Why do you want to help?” You ask, looking at him suspiciously.

“… What?” His smile is gone now.

“You saw me. Why do you want to help?”

“I-“ He stops himself, plucking imaginary guitar strings in thought again. He chews on his lip, looking at you from behind his shades. It’s dark enough in here that his eyes are completely obscured. It’s kind of weird, honestly. You’ve never figured out why he wears those all the time. 

“I started losing my hearing when I was little. My bro got me hearing aids. After that, I felt normal and happy again. They can’t fix hearing, but they help.” He still spells a few words you don’t know, but you can tell the hesitation of his signs isn’t just from slowing down for you. “Unless you’re all deaf like I am now, then there’s just a little speaker in your ear.”

You wonder what else is behind that story. He deflects personal information with jokes, you know that much. “You want me to feel… normal?” You spell the last word, your eyebrows scrunching down. You don’t think it’s possible for you to feel normal – never has, never will.

Dave thinks for a second before answering. “I don’t know ‘normal’ for trolls. But I know deaf isn’t normal. I want to help.”

The warm feeling in your chest comes back, this time accompanied by a small twinge of sadness. You manage to stomp on it enough to make it disintegrate. “OK,” you sign instead, “can I use them now?” Dave’s just going to sign at you forever if you don’t ask.

He lights up a bit. “Yes!” And after a moment and a little smirk: “I hope they fit around your big ears.”

You feign incredible hurt, clutching at your chest. He laughs and god damn it the warm feeling’s back again.

He scoots close enough that your knees bump together and shows you the hearing aids, rambling a bit on how he made them, but you don’t process any of the signs, really. Judging from his expressions and the dramatic way he’s signing though, it was a long and arduous process. Or he’s just dramatic. It could be either one. Finally, after what may have been hours (or two minutes, who’s to say), he offers the hearing aids to you. You pick them up carefully, terrified that you’ll accidentally break them. You look down at the tiny devices. These flimsy little things can help hearing? Really?

It takes you a few tries, but you get them on and thankfully, they don’t feel as incredibly weird as you had assumed. Dave is up, messing with the TV, so you stomp on the floor to get his attention. He comes back to sit on the couch.

“Well?” He says. 

“No different,” you sign back.

“Wait,” he signs, "maybe they're not on. Stay still.” With that, he leans close to you and taps on your jaw to ask you to turn. You oblige and he fiddles with the back of the hearing aid. You feel a little click and he leans to the other side to do the same thing. Now, you’ve read enough cheesy and terrible romance books to know how overused the phrase “suddenly aware how close he was” is, but fuck it, you just became suddenly aware how _fucking close_ he is. And just like that, you feel the next click and he sits back.

“How’s that?” He says. You try to listen and… holy shit, it works.

“Holy shit, it works.” You can hear the TV, and your claws click together, and the couch squeak slightly when Dave bounces, an absolutely enormous smile on his face.

“Fuck yes, bro!” He still talks quietly, but it doesn’t take every bit of your thinkpan to figure out what he’s saying now.

“I can hear you,” you sign to him, having a hard time keeping a smile off of your face.

He points at you like the physical embodiment of an exclamation point. “You’re smiling!” He says, half out loud and half sign language. “Holy shit, I didn’t think you could.”

You sneer at him, but you don't mean it and the smile creeps back. You know he can’t hear it, so you let yourself some chirps of happiness. It’s not often you feel genuinely happy – you might as well savor it.

“Want to watch a movie?” He asks, again half out loud and half signing, like he can’t make up his mind. “Test out the volume?”

“Hell yeah, I can hear those motherfuckers now,” you say before stopping to attempt to translate it. You just end up nodding. You can’t translate all that right now.

You pick an old Alternian movie that you don’t particularly care about; you just want to enjoy the sounds you can finally hear. You turn on the subtitles though, because Dave was right – your hearing isn’t fixed. But it is better. You spend the next several hours watching movies, explaining plots that really aren’t that complicated but that Dave _insists_ he doesn’t understand, and telling him about the sounds you can hear now, drinking up all the contented feelings coming from him. You could get used to this, you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all. I am so absolutely floored by the response to this. If you've read this I love you. If you've commented or left kudos or bookmarked it I double love you. Reading y'all's comments on here and tags on Tumblr has made me so happy I don't even know what to do with it like ???? anyway moment of sincerity and love over remember to like comment and subscribe yeehaw


	4. ==> Be the second guy again

You are now once more the second guy you were again. 

It’s early morning because as established previously, you cannot sleep much. However, on this particular morning, you’re not wallowing in sadness like you so often do. No, you’re having an especially good morning, thanks to not having to be alone for once. Karkat sits across from you at the table as you drink your respective coffees (both so full of fake sugar they’re more like drinking warm cream that had been sitting next to a coffee maker for like, five minutes). It’s been almost a year (eleven months and thirteen days, specifically) now since you and he started signing, and he’s gotten really good. He’s a fast learner even with his almost painful perfectionist tendencies and made impressive progress quickly. Some signs are harder for him, what with the claws and all, but you developed a habit of moving his hands around for him if he couldn’t get a sign correct, and that seemed to help. You finally broke a month ago and taught him swears, and he’s been going hog-wild ever since. It’s almost endearing. He can almost rant the same way he does when he talks – the only difference being that he has to slow down when he signs. 

This morning you’re discussing how to sign some game- and troll-specific words. So far you’ve worked out how to sign class and aspect combos (aspect first, then class), Bec Noir (“dog motherfucker”), and troll (“grey losers” you offered, but Karkat shot that one down. The consensus ended up being simply the Vulcan salute, which you convinced him was just the sign for “alien” and he thought that was better than being called “grey loser” forever. You’re very entertained by this.)

“I think it’s easier to use one or two signs only,” you’re signing. “I’ll never remember a whole sentence, this isn’t your dumb troll movie titles.”

Karkat rolls his eyes and signs back, “I’m just saying, these are specific topics and need specific words!”

“What’s wrong with just ‘black romance’ and ‘red romance’?” You feel like those are good enough, and you’re so tired of spelling “kismesis” and “matesprit”.

“Because it’s not only romance, dumbass.” Karkat makes a face at you, baring his teeth. “Your tiny human brain can’t understand that.”

You snort. “My tiny human brain knows exactly what you mean. Red romance and black romance. There, done.”

He growls at you and you smirk slightly. He’s so fun to get a rise out of. And it’s so _easy _to do so. “Maybe _you _don’t understand,” you continue, raising your eyebrows in fake innocence. “I am way smarter than you, you know. Right about everything.”____

_____ _

____

“Fuck you.” His teeth are still bared, and with the frequency that he growls about things, you think it’s safe to assume he growled at you as a nice accompaniment to that sign.

You grin. An idea comes to you.

“Wait, wait,” you sign, pausing to make sure he’s watching. He looks at you with a half glare. “How about ‘normal people love’ and ‘kinky hate love’,” you sign.

You don’t need to hear to know he yells “no”, and you duck off your chair to avoid the empty mug that gets hucked at your head. You cackle from under the table. “I’m right!” You say out loud, victorious. He kicks at you and you keep laughing as you get up. 

Just then, Rose enters the kitchen. She eyes you up and down, then signs, “What’s funny?”

Karkat says something to her and she raises and eyebrow before signing, “You’re being a little bitch baby about troll word signs?”

You roll your eyes even though you know they can’t see it and use your entire body to convey a glare at Karkat. He sneers at you and you can’t help but smile again. God it’s fun to annoy him. You look back at Rose. “All I said,” you sign dramatically, “was that ‘kismesis’ should be signed as ‘kinky hate love’, and then Karkat got all mad.”

“Oh really?” She signs, walking backwards to the coffee maker. 

Karkat says something out loud again, Rose answers, and you return to holding your poker face – an expression which currently means you feel incredibly left out. Rose smirks her signature Rose Lalonde Patented “I Know More Than You” Smirk at Karkat, and he says something back quickly and covers his face.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” you say, more a statement than a question. Rose aims The Smirk at you and it gives you fucking whiplash to be on the receiving end. It’s like she knows Everything. She probably does, actually. Fuckin’ Seer of Light bullshit.

“Nothing much,” she signs, “Just that Karkat thinks you’re trying to make quadrants simple on purpose.”

You think for a few seconds. “Yeah, it’s fun to annoy him.” Then, “Actually, do you know _why_ it annoys him? You know everything.”

If The Smirk could intensify, it would. “For one, quadrants are important to him. For two, it is easy to think your attempts to annoy him are black flirting.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?” You look over at Karkat, who now has his face buried completely in his arms. “Does he know you think that?”

You see Rose laugh lightly. “Yes, that’s why he’s… like that.”

Huh. You don’t hate Karkat by any means, and you think that’s like, a prerequisite to kismesissitude or something, but he’s fun to annoy and make fun of, and you’ve got to admit it is kinda cute when he gets mad and the way he starts mouthing words when he signs angrily, and- …wait.

“Holy shit, am I flirting with him?” You sign helplessly at Rose, eyes wide behind your shades. You’re not… _not_ flirting, you guess. Do you _want _to?__

__“Maybe.” She signs with one hand, grabbing the coffee with the other._ _

__She looks at Karkat, who you assume said something to her because he gestures wildly and she says something in response, then leaves with naught but a wink at you, The Smirk hardly dimming. What the fuck?_ _

__You watch her leave and stand there, flabbergasted._ _

__You continue to stand there, flabbergasted, for two and a half minutes until Karkat moves again._ _

__He turns towards you but keeps looking down and signs, “That was… bad.”_ _

__“Why?” You say, still reeling from that whole exchange._ _

__“Who wants to learn their dumbass friend thinks they’re flirting because their nosy sister tells them?” He still doesn’t look directly at you, but you see him almost snarling as he signs. You walk over and sit your ass right down on the floor in front of him._ _

__“It’s cool,” you sign, looking at him. Eloquent as ever._ _

__He meets your gaze (or, approximately where it’s hidden behind your shades), looking confused and angry. “What do you mean, “cool”? You’re not…” His signs trail off as he thinks and he looks away. “You’re not mad?”_ _

__“Mad? For you thinking I’m flirting when I’ve maybe been flirting? Of course not.” You honestly can’t figure out why he’s so hung up on this. He processes your signs and then looks you in the eye again, narrowing his eyes. “… What?”_ _

__“You said you were flirting.”_ _

__“I…“ Yeah you did sign that, huh. “Yes?”_ _

__“On purpose?”_ _

__Your heart decides to pound out some sick dubstep-style beat drops in your chest and you suddenly find yourself nervous. “Maybe?” You offer lamely. Karkat sits back in his chair, eyes still narrowed but flicking around the room like he’s the nervous one. Or he’s thinking really hard, maybe. Hell if you know._ _

__“God damn it you don’t know how flirting _works_ for trolls! You _can’t_!” He signs, starting to look more frustrated than angry._ _

__“Can’t be that different from humans, right?”_ _

__Nope, that was a wrong thing to say. Karkat glares daggers at you, standing up. “Whatever. Let’s drop it.”_ _

__Oh but now you’re invested. You stand so you can look him in the eye (though with his height you might be better off crouching, haha. No, not the time for jokes). “Maybe I wanna talk about it,” you sign._ _

__“No, you don’t.” His signs are starting to get sharper, more pointed.  
“Yes, I do. Why are you so mad about this?” Your signs are getting bigger, which means you’re getting frustrated. You can’t figure out why he’s making such a big deal._ _

__“I don’t. Want. To talk about it,” he signs, pausing for emphasis and anger. “Fuck you, it doesn’t matter.”_ _

__You start to sign and he grabs your hands roughly, claws digging in. He bares his fangs at you and you’re legitimately, honest-to-god kind of scared. You freeze. His eyes go wide for a half second and he lets go, stepping backwards. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but instead, turns and almost runs from the room._ _

__Well, shit._ _

__

__So that could have gone better. You decided to give Karkat the rest of the day to chill out. You’re still not entirely sure why he freaked out, but you’re freaking out a little too, so you’re one to talk. You said you were flirting with him. On purpose. Kind of. You said that to him. You lie face down on your bed and grumble into the pillow. Then it gets hard to breathe so you flip onto your back. You stare up at the ceiling, following the uneven lines with your eyes like you always did with ceiling tiles back home. He likes you (probably). You like him (more than probably, now that you think about it). Why are you both panicking about it? Or are you both panicking about it? Maybe it’s just you and Karkat is fine. Do you really like him? You roll your eyes at yourself. Duh, what kind of question is that, he’s your best bro out here on a meteor in a different universe being propelled by alien telekinesis. Wow your life is weird. But that’s not what you meant. Do you like him, or do you _like_ him? You let out half a laugh, pressing the heels of your hands into your forehead. Both? _ _

__You think about him all the time; but then again, you think about all your friends all the time. You guess that being friends with someone should go with being into them, but you’ve never had any experience and Bro was no good role model. For all you knew up until recently, there didn’t have to be any friendship at all in that kind of relationship. How are you supposed to even tell the difference? There is a difference – even if you can’t figure it out, you can… feel it? Ugh that sounds so sappy and not cool at all. You frown. You never really expected to get into any relationships at all, let alone one with one of your best friends who happened to be a tiny, loud, gray horny space alien. Wait – no, that’s not what you meant god dammit – You groan again, and as you do you feel the vibrations from the buzzer on your door. One more groan for good measure and you get up. It’s probably Kanaya, come to give you a signature “I’m not mad just disappointed” look about upsetting Karkat. She’s like fifteen, how is she so good at being a parent? You open the door and –_ _

__“Karkat?”_ _

__“Good job remembering my name, dipshit.” He doesn’t make eye contact when he signs and looks uncomfortable, but not like he’s gonna run again. You step back and open the door wider for him. “… Wanna come in?”_ _

__He rocks on his feet for a second like he always does when he’s deciding something, then steps in and stands a few feet into the room, folding his arms tightly. You close the door and lean against it in a cool and unaffected way (you hope). “You good?” You sign._ _

__He chews on his lip for a few seconds before answering. “Sorry.”_ _

__You smush your eyebrows together in confusion. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”_ _

__He drags his hands over his face and says something. You start to talk but he cuts you off, signing, “You don’t need to know what I said.”_ _

__You frown and walk over to him. “Seriously, Karkat, what’s wrong? I haven’t seen you this stressed in a long time.”_ _

__“Sorry I got mad.”_ _

__You almost laugh. “You’re sorry _you_ got _mad_? Since when do you feel sorry about that? You always yell! About everything!”_ _

__He wrings his hands, looking sideways. You let your hands drop. He looks back at you and sighs._ _

__“I’m sorry because you didn’t deserve it,” he signed, keeping his movements small. He looked almost sad. “You made me mad when you were talking about quadrants, then Rose told you I thought you were flirting – I _don’t_ – and you kept talking and talking and it made me madder and I didn’t mean to hurt you—”_ _

__You wave your hands to stop his signing._ _

__“First… I don’t want to make you mad, I want to annoy you. Those are different. And you didn’t hurt me.” You feel your face heating a little with embarrassment. “Second… you didn’t think I was flirting?”_ _

__Karkat’s ears twitch down (that’s such a weird trait, you need to make fun of it later) and you notice his cheeks getting red. “No.” He signed definitively. You narrow your eyes, then remember he can’t see that, so you take off your shades. His eyebrows flick up in surprise. You’ve only taken your shades off a few times and he isn’t used to it, you guess._ _

__“Really? Because your face begs to differ.”_ _

__He goes darker red and swats at your hands before covering his face and glaring. “I hate you,” he signs._ _

__You venture a little smile. “No you don’t.”_ _

__His shoulders draw up so high they almost hit his jaw and he goes on a goddamn face journey from annoyed to a quarter of a smile and back to annoyed. “I… wanted to hate you,” he finally signs._ _

__You cock your head slightly. “You wanted to?”_ _

__He glances at the door for a millisecond, but you’re standing between it and him so he doesn’t leave. You try to casually shift so he can reach the it if he decides to._ _

__Karkat looks like he sighs or groans or something, then answers. “I wanted to hate you to have a kismesis…” His signs trail off but he doesn’t drop his hands, so you wait. You have _some_ tact, after all._ _

__He chews on his lip again – a persistent habit, you’ve noticed – and keeps signing. “But I’m stupid and selfish and I know you don’t like the idea of kismesissitude but I wanted that, then it felt red when we started movie night, but when you taught me to sign and helped with Terezi and Gamzee bullshit that felt pale, and if you weren’t a human you’d be black flirting a lot, and I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. That’s why I got mad. It’s not your fault. I’m stupid.” As soon as he’s done signing he covers his face with his hands out of embarrassment, you guess. You wait until he parts his fingers to look at you._ _

__“Do you… need to use quadrants?” You ask with small, tentative signs, trying very hard not to upset him again but totally unsure if that’s about to blow up in your face._ _

__Miraculously, it doesn’t. His face contorts a little before he looks back up at you. “I don’t know,” he signs, looking helpless. “I thought yes, but I don’t think I can.” He laughs humorlessly. “Maybe I’m broken.”_ _

__You frown at that. “You’re not.”_ _

__“I am! We’re not supposed to have someone in _two_ quadrants but I want you in all of them!” He signs frustratedly. Then he freezes. He doesn’t even look at the door, he just stops moving entirely. _ _

__“Karkat…?”_ _

__He doesn’t answer. Oh god. Oh no he broke. What are you supposed to do? Shit, you can’t re-start a person like you can with a computer, what now?_ _

__Then he shakes his head and grimaces and thank god, nevermind, he’s back. You gently lean your head against his shoulder. He tenses._ _

__“What…?” He has to move his hand way further to the side than it should be so you can actually see it. You straighten up and look at him. You try very hard to fight the smile that’s attempting to shatter your immaculate and unshakable poker face._ _

__Karkat narrows his eyes at you. “What,” he signs without a hint of a question._ _

__“You like me,” you sign, lingering on “you” longer than necessary for dramatic effect. “I broke the quadrants, baby, only one now!”_ _

__He flushes again and glares at you but you’ve known him long enough now to know he isn’t really mad._ _

__“Only one quadrant and it’s Dave fucking Strider,” you keep signing, letting yourself smile._ _

__You get an eye roll for that and you have to keep yourself from doing a fist pump of victory._ _

__“Don’t—” Karkat starts signing but you wave to cut him off._ _

__“I like you too, you know. In the normal human way. No quadrants.” The second you say that you feel your face heat up like crazy and dammit there goes the poker face. You always hated how fast you blush. You wring your hands. Now that you said it out loud, you made it a real thing that exists in the world instead of just in your head and you’re suddenly _extremely_ nervous. What if he was joking about liking you?_ _

__He just looks at you for several seconds, his face almost blank. Your eyes dart around and you really want to put your shades back on, but also don’t want to hide for once._ _

__Then he smiles. A real, honest-to-god smile. Okay, he wasn’t joking. It’s small, but so genuine it catches you off guard._ _

__“Shit that’s cute,” you say out loud before your brain catches up to your mouth. You clap a hand over your mouth and you’re pretty sure your face looks like a goddamn heirloom tomato at this point. Maybe he didn’t hear you?_ _

__“Oh you think I’m cute?” He signs innocently. Nope, he heard._ _

__You shrug. Hell yeah way to salvage your cool aura._ _

__“I’m not, but that’s nice of you to say.” No no, you are absolutely not having that._ _

__“Listen bitch, I just decided I’m saying this. You’re extremely cute.” You throw a lot of movement into “cute”, hoping the extent of his cuteness comes across. “I don’t mean how puppies and babies are cute.” God dammit you’re really saying this, huh. “I mean cute like attractive. There.” You feel like you should go dunk your head in ice water it’s so hot. Actually, the water would probably evaporate on contact. This is why you’re so much better at flirting over text._ _

__Karkat looks shocked. His hands move a tiny bit like he’s trying to sign but can’t make the words._ _

__“Bullshit,” he eventually signs._ _

__You give him a look that you hope conveys “what the hell, man?”_ _

__You gesture at your face. “Do you think I look like this because I’m joking?” Your signs start getting really big, not in frustration, but disbelief. For a smart guy he’s kinda dense sometimes, huh._ _

__He narrows his eyes at you. “Really?”_ _

__“Yes really, you dumb fuck.” You roll your eyes at him. And he laughs. Not the fake mock laugh he does when he’s annoyed but a real actual _laugh_. You look at him with your eyebrows raised. “… What?”_ _

__“You like me!” He signs. “You…” The sign falters. “We like… each other?” His eyes dart around the room for a second before he meets your gaze. He’s definitely processing something, but hell if you know what it is, so you just smile. Poker face be damned, you’re happy. So you lean down and hug him. He tenses for a second before returning it just as tight. And because you’re still kind of a dick you pick him up and swing him around a little bit like you might with a persnickety cat._ _

__You feel him say – or shout, probably – something accompanied by a little rumbly growl or hiss or something and you laugh lightly. You put him down and he sticks his tongue out at you. You just smile at him. You don’t even know the last time you felt so honestly happy. It’s been a long fuckin’ time, that’s for sure._ _

__Maybe it’s gonna be fine._ _

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
> 
> (translation: I haven't written fanfic in about six years, and never published anything. I hope this isn't too much of a mess. also thank you so incredibly much for reading)


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